The Glass Breaker

Bhadra gently sat on the cushion, feeling the fatigue in his legs. Then he bent forward and pressed one of his ankles. 'Damn this place.' He lost count of the number of hallways he'd walked through and stairs he'd climbed to reach here. The royal palace, he believed, wasn't an easy place to visit at any time of the year.

He closed his eyes and recalled the image of the tree in the front garden. It refused to leave his head. The charred banyan tree was the first thing he'd seen after entering the royal palace. Its bark was blacker than anything he'd ever known. Its roots, slightly elevated above the ground, were also black and hardened, making it seem like a dark birthmark on the glistening face of the palace. Whatever damaged the tree had been thorough and violent. Was it hit by a lightning bolt? Was it a disease? Or a curse? Why did the king still keep it? Questions bombarded him. If he hadn't been obliged to deliver this letter, he would've stayed back, studying the tree and finding out the reasons behind its hellish appearance.

He put those thoughts away and swallowed them. Why bother? His throat tasted dry, but there was nothing around to drink. How unlike the royal family to serve their guest nothing? The waiting room was long and quiet except for his relentless breathing. There was no water or a table. Just the couch full of cushions and pillows. A thick olive carpet ran down the length of the floor. Bhadra rubbed his feet against it, and it felt nice. He sighed in relief. He'd spent too much time in sludge and dust since the last two fortnights, he was worried he'd lost sensation in his legs. His father's training had gone beyond learning and started touching the lines of death and the afterlife. I'm supposed to be the greatest wizard of this era. Instead, I'm delivering letters to the king who's too lazy to move his drunk ass out of his palace. He scratched his nose. What a pity!

Bhadra had thought it'd be another training session when his father woke him up before sunrise. But all he got was a letter, waxed shut with their family crest, followed by a warning that went as: Don't open it or lose it. And burn it once the king reads it. Not a word more or less. 'Yes. As if they'll let me, the biggest disappointment of their lives, know such an important message.' The letter might as well be about asking the king if he'd recently seen a monkey. Also, he found it suspiciously odd that his father still had hope in him. Last he heard his parents wanted to disown him so they could recover their tarnished family name.

Just thinking about it boiled his blood. Every time Bhadra thought his family couldn't humiliate him further, they reached down their bottomless black hearts and found a way. Now, they were playing him a fool in front of the royal family. It wasn't as if he would disobey them. Then, he will be the son who failed to deliver a simple letter. Even with the soft wool under his feet, he sensed the double-edged sword that paved his way here.

He leaned into a pillow and glanced around. There were no soldiers in this wing of the palace. Bhadra assumed there weren't many workers too, because he heard no footsteps from the outside. Strange, he considered. The carrot shade of the evening sun reflected over the marble walls, and the smell of Lillies wafted in the air. His mere presence here proved the influence of his father in this kingdom. Still, he preferred to be anywhere else.

Bhadra hated the mundane chores, if truth be told, and he hated doing them in his house even more. He wished to possess the type of magic that might breeze him through the basic human chores, like brushing his teeth or taking a shit. Or working for his father. Sadly, he wasn't blessed with magical blood. No, Vishnu won that prize. His younger brother got so many things in life, Bhadra often felt that God made him with whatever remained after creating Vishnu. Somehow, it sounded precisely like something his mother would say.

His father almost cried when Vishnu broke the glass for the first time and kindled his spell. Who would blame him? His little kid turned out to be a glass breaker. The Glass realm was the mirror realm with an infinite supply of cosmic energy. The Glass breakers were the wizards who could influence their spells using this energy. And clearly, they were people's favourites. Like his brother. They were powerful and so rose through the ranks of the army like they were climbing stairs. Even after two decades of its epiphany, they still regarded the glass breaking capacity a marvel. No wonder his father believed it'd be a cakewalk for Vishnu to become the next General of the Army. He had everything served on the silver platter, anyway.